Short & Sweet, Quick & Dirty
by Hunni8unni333
Summary: Drabbles revolving Cristina and Owen. Written for drabble123 over at LJ. Prompt table - Random 1. Not in chronological order.
1. Alternative

**Prompt 1 - Alternative: one of the things, propositions, or courses of action that can be chosen.**

The day has been too long, Owen thinks as he lets himself into the house. Trauma victims that never had a fighting chance, children whose bruises and broken bones seemed more than accidental, and then there was that phone call from an Iraq buddy digging up memories.

He thinks that he needs to lose his head into an inane TV show or maybe a game. Football, hockey, he doesn't care which. All he wants is mindless action. And beer. Definitely a beer.

The light is on in the living room and he can hear the faint sounds of the TV. He pushes the door open and peers in. The sight that greets him almost takes his breath away. He doesn't think that it will ever stop having that effect on him.

Cristina is asleep on the couch. Her hair is a wild mess and frames her face. The necklace he gave her last year for Christmas ("Seriously? If you still haven't figured out by now that I'm Jewish, then we have to reconsider things," she had said.) rests on her collarbone. It sparkles in the dim light. Her hands are laid out on her swollen belly. Protectively.

Owen sits at the end of the couch, lifting Cristina's feet and placing them in his lap. She moves a little and a small moan escapes her lips. He places his hand on top of hers and wonders at the small miracle growing inside her belly. Their miracle.

He sits like this for a long time, his gaze never leaving Cristina.

Her eyes blink open. "Are you staring at me?"

"A little."

"Creepy stalker."

He chuckles. One that comes from deep within his chest. He thinks about that game and beer he had wanted. He thinks that the alternative is so much better.


	2. Fidelity

**Prompt 2 - Fidelity: the degree to which an electronic system accurately reproduces the sound or image of its input signal. **

"Welcome to the world, Andrew Yang-Hunt. You've left your cozy womb and the world isn't an easy place. It's a fucked up world out there. But if I know -"

Cristina interrupts. "Mer, seriously. The kid just got here and you're already traumatizing him."

"He needs to know the truth up front," Meredith says. She turns back towards the baby in her arms. "If I know your mother, and I think I do, she's gonna teach you to tell the world to screw itself."

She returns Andrew back to the hospital crib. "You done good, Cristina."

"Do you think he'll make it out there? In the fucked up world?" Cristina asks, her hands playing with the blanket.

"He's got good genes. He'll make it."

"You think this bootleg Yang-Hunt got the good genes? What if he got the dark and twisty ones?"

Meredith shakes her head and grins. "I never thought I'd see the day. Cristina Yang, you're thinking like a mother."

"'Say what now?"

"A mother," she says with emphasis. "He's not even one day old and you're already scared and worried for him. That's a good thing. You and Owen are going to love this child. And everything else will fall into place."

"Thank you, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Knock, knock." Owen is at the door and he smiles at the two best friends.

Meredith sneaks one more look at Andrew and leaves, closing the door behind her.

"How are you feeling?" Owen kisses her forehead.

"Tired," Cristina yawns, "but good."

He places his hand on Andrew's cheeks and rubs gently. "He looks like you. Amazing. Beautiful. Cristina, thank you. You -"

"Sentimental fool." She doesn't let him continue.

He chuckles and looks at her. His eyes are bright and vivid.

"I think he looks like you," she says softly.


	3. Attentive

**Prompt 3 - Attentive: characterized by or giving attention; mindful and observant.**

Cristina's a details kind of woman. She didn't become a cardio goddess without paying attention to the details. Details tell her what to do - pig, cow, defibrillate, operate.

The first week, she notices the body aches. Her head, her back, all over. Owen gives her more massages than usual. "You're a spoiled brat," he whispers into her ears. She shivers with delight.

The second week, her breasts are tender. She tells Owen not to play with her nipples during sex. He pouts and tries to reach for them anyway. "No, Owen," she tells him again.

The third week, every time she gets up from bed, she feels dizzy. Owen steadies her with his strong hands. "You okay?" he asks. They have a spirited debate over whether she should call out sick.

The fourth week, she gets heartburn. "No more junk food for you," Owen says as he heads out to buy Tums. He buys the bag of potato chips she had asked for anyway.

The fifth week, she's incredibly irritated. She can't stand Owen and picks a fight with him. She tells him to sleep on the couch. They don't speak for one day.

The sixth week, her bladder is out of control. She leaves in the middle of surgery to use the bathroom. "Need some diapers?" Owen teases her later that night.

The seventh week, she feels uncomfortably hot. She walks around the house in short shorts and tiny tank tops. Owen can't keep his hands off of her. They have sex - a lot.

The eighth week, she can't stand the smell of her morning coffee. One whiff and she is in the bathroom hurling. The next morning, Owen makes her tea instead.

Cristina's a details kind of woman, and details tell her that she's pregnant.

Shit.


	4. Definition

**Prompt 4 - Definition: a statement expressing the essential nature of something. **

"Cristina. Follower of Christ," Owen reads from the book of baby names.

"My mom dropped the ball on that one," Cristina snorts. "And why are we even looking at this book? I like my method."

"Finding names from TV isn't a method."

She ignores him and starts counting names off her fingers. "Lucius, Titus, Julius -"

"You really want to name our child Lucius Yang-Hunt?"

"It has a ring to it."

Now it is his turn to ignore her. He flips to a random page. "Kenneth, Kerry, Kevin -"

"Kevin? Eww." She makes a face.

He turns to another page. "Sally, Samantha, Sandra -"

"Ooh, Sandra. Now that's nice."

He looks at her smugly. "The book's a good method."

"Crapper." She folds her arms over her pregnant belly. A beat of silence, then - "Look up Owen."

He tells her without looking it up. "Young warrior."

"You already checked it? Such a woman."

He chuckles. "Have I ever told you the story of my birth?"

"No."

"I was a preemie. Twenty-nine weeks in the womb. Back then, the medicine wasn't like it is now. I wasn't supposed to make it. But I hung on and I fought for my life. So my parents named me Owen."

"For their young warrior."

He nods, eyes lost into his memories. "In Iraq... I always felt like I was fighting for my life. For other men's lives... One of the letters my mom wrote me then, she told me about why I was named Owen. That I was her warrior and that I would make it through. Those words gave me a lot of comfort. Got me through many nights."

She takes his hands and squeezes. "You're not fighting for your life anymore. You're here. I'm here."

"Yeah, you certainly are, follower of Christ."


End file.
